Market Poetry

By Market Poetry

I know but this compared to men
That morrow lies beyond my ken

The scholars state, adjust, and claim
As for my strength, ’tis not the same
But knowing what’s within my game

The narrow circle is marked but clear
At the border I perhaps dance near
But as for yonder I do not peer

And since these rules I do not bend
Faith I hold in a lovely end

Editor’s Note: We’d rather post your stuff than ours–submissions welcome!

To be sung to the tune of Simon and Garfunkel’s “Mrs. Robinson”

By: Anonymous

And here’s to you, Mr. Oracle
Off the balance sheet that cash must go, wo wo wo
God bless you please, Mr. Oracle
Heaven holds a place for those who pay, hey hey hey
Hey hey hey

We’d like to have a little bit from you and your piles
We’d like to help you put that cash to work
Look around you, all you see are unattractive buys
Please dole out those mounds, until we pay our loans

And here’s to you, Mr. Oracle
Off the balance sheet that cash must go, wo wo wo
God bless you please, Mr. Oracle
Heaven holds a place for those who pay, hey hey hey
Hey hey hey

Where that cash will go no one ever knows
So put in our pockets, sense that makes
It’s a little silly, just the billions sitting there
Most of all you’ve got to pay it—I’ve got kids

Coo coo ca-choo, Mr. Oracle
Shareholders love you more than you will know, wo wo wo
God bless you please, Mr. Oracle
Heaven holds a place for those who pay, hey hey hey
Hey hey hey

Sitting on that cash in a low interest account
Unexcited by the bank’s low rate, yah
Laugh about it, shout about it
When you’ve got to choose
Every way you look at it we lose

What will you do, Mr. Oracle?
Your shareholders turn their needy eyes to you, woo woo woo
What’s that you say, Mr. Oracle?
Cheap stocks have left and gone away, so just pay
Hey hey hey